playing favorites
by elyndis
Summary: "Fan of the genre, remember?" Beckett does some light reading in bed.


A/N: All my thanks to the remarkable Polly Lynn. Your three-million-dollar briefcase is in the mail.

* * *

He drifts into consciousness slowly, face mashed into something warm and solid. He inhales deeply, breathing in the faint hint of cherry-scented body lotion. Mmm, Kate.

He fights the urge to open his eyes as his fingers drift across the soft expense of skin, massaging lightly. There's an amused huff from somewhere to his left and he blinks up at her from where he's sprawled out next to her endless legs to find her propped up against the headboard and smiling indulgently at him.

"Groping me in your sleep there, Castle?" she asks, glancing pointedly at the hand he has wrapped around her naked thigh.

He grins sheepishly, tugs her leg closer so he can hide his face in it. "Was not."

She hums, unconvinced, carding a hand through his hair and he rolls his neck to sneak another peek up at her, hair falling dramatically over one eye.

"Geez Castle, you're clingy in the mornings."

" 'M not a morning person," he moans into the curve of her hip. "Plus we were up pretty late last night." He pushes himself up on his forearms and throws her a salacious look before flopping back on the bed exaggeratedly.

She ignores his theatrics, turning back to the paperback he's just noticed she has cradled in one hand.

He cranes his neck to take in the cover. "Patterson?" He winces at how shrill his voice sounds, but presses on. "You're reading Patterson? In bed, with me?"

"Fan of the genre, remember?" She smirks at him, strokes his hair back from his face. "Plus, you brought this on yourself. I tried waking you thirty minutes ago and you just mumbled my name and something about raccoons before proceeding to drool all over my leg."

He grimaces, palms her thigh. It is slightly sticky. "Sorry. Shower? Would wake me up, too."

"I'm sure it would," she says, lips quirking up at the corners. "Let me finish this chapter first."

He's quiet for a second, pouting. When she continues to ignore him he changes tactics, shooting out a hand to get at the ticklish spot at the back of her knee.

"Castle!" Her arms flail as she sucks in a breath and he takes the opportunity to wrest the paperback from her grasp. "Or," he grins roguishly at her, "how about I read you the last chapter, right now, so you don't have to worry about how it ends."

She's giving him the look, the one that says _don't you dare because I will shoot you_, but he knows for a fact her gun is locked up in the safe in his office, and anyway, he's more turned on than scared. The fact that she's risen to her knees and is towering over him in pale pink underwear, the outline of her breasts visible through the flimsy cotton of her tank top, isn't really helping matters.

He tosses the book off to the side and eases her back onto the bed with a few well-placed kisses, smoothing heated palms up her sides, brunching up the fabric as he goes.

Her breath hitches when his tongue hits the spot behind her ear and she latches onto his arms with strong fingers, her grip bruising. "I thought you were going to spoil Patterson's latest for me?"

"Oh, but I am. He workshopped that one at a poker game; I don't need to have it in front of me to know how it ends. You see, turns out their vic, Jones, has a niece with a rare medical condition. She needs this costly operation that her parents can't pay for. So Jones strikes a deal with the cartel, says he'll help them with the Ramrock job in exchange for some unspecified amount of money."

"But the Ramrock job went sideways."

"Exactly. And the head of the cartel, he gets taken into custody. The new leader, he's not so keen to pay up. The way he figures, it wasn't his deal."

The death grip Kate has on his arms has slackened, and her eyes have that intense look she gets when he's spinning a particularly intriguing theory. Castle sucks in a breath, pausing for dramatic effect. Oh, he has her now.

"So anyway, Alex Cross goes after the new cartel leader, and…"

"And?" she breathes, fingers stroking up his arms.

"And they all lived happily ever after. The end."

Her eyes widen in shock, and he bites back a laugh, watches a multitude of emotions flirt across her face as the gears turn in her head, can see the moment she realizes she's been had.

She flips them easily and before he can blink he's on his back, staring up at her narrowed eyes and heaving chest.

"How do you _do_ that? I'm at least fifty pounds heavier than you."

"Just fifty?" she teases, and he would hold her down, make her pay for her wicked tongue, but he's panting a little, which is ironic since she was the one who did all the flipping. Ironic, and a little sad, maybe.

He opens his mouth to protest but she silences him with a look. "You have no idea how the book actually ends, do you?"

"Not a clue."

"Pull a stunt like that again and I'm rescinding permission to let you use what happened last night for your next book."

"Even the part where–" he wiggles his fingers at her in a vaguely obscene gesture.

"Especially that part."

"You're so fickle," he pouts. "I thought I was your favorite author."

She pats him on the cheek and gets up, heading for the bathroom. At the doorway she strips off her shirt and lobs it at him, rolling her eyes when it hits him square in the face and he clutches his head in mock hurt. "For the record, you are definitely my favorite author."

"Yeah?" he calls after her as she disappears into the bathroom, voiced muffled by the shirt draped over his face. "Want me to sign your chest?"


End file.
